


Fall of the Mighty

by Ms_Julius



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Disabled Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 11:52:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18120281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Julius/pseuds/Ms_Julius
Summary: It's a late evening in the studio. Everyone has gone home hours ago.Not an ideal time for your body to give out.





	Fall of the Mighty

The studio was quiet by now. Everyone working upstairs had gone home hours ago, leaving the building empty and without a sound to go along with it. The walls had been overtaken by the shadows leaking through a set of small windows, but down in the lower floors it didn’t really matter. The way past the locked up offices was lightened only by pair of lamps screwed to the ceiling, and one would need to mind their steps if they wanted to get to the other end of the corridor without losing their footing on the uneven ground.

In the shadowy hall, a lonely figure pulled a door open. A grand door, bulky in size, one window slammed into it. The office behind it was equally pompous. There were few furniture aside from a large work desk, but the desk itself was impressive enough to capture any visitor’s attention. Dark wood, smooth surface, carvings in the sides and supporting legs. Metal locks in every drawer.

Drew had a key to every one of them.

It didn’t take long before the top bolt was slipped open and a thick stack of papers was pulled out. Carefully, with slow tension, Drew set the pile on the corner of the desk, far from the edge. A pen was soon set beside it. He pushed the leather chair away far enough for him to sit down properly, but never followed through with the intention. Instead he leaned on the desktop, taking some weight off from his shaking legs.

It had been a dreadful night. More so than usual. Stacks of bills, a shouting match with Grant when he had found out, and a crushing realization that it was only Tuesday. Three more days to go. Or five. You never knew until it was too late to back out. Just a pencil and a dream. And a shoulder-load of stress, it seemed. Although he would never admit it out loud to anyone within earshot.

Rubbing his thigh absent-mindedly, Drew took a glance at the papers. Delivery forms. Bills. Letters from fans, or threats from cynics. You’d have to open the envelopes to know. Drew was not in the mood to know anything right now. He should just toss them all into a fire. Or send them to Grant’s office. Isn’t that the reason he hired the damn man in the first place, to avoid having to deal with these matters himself? He would do that. And come morning, he’d get a message from the accountant wanting to meet...

His hand was now pressed down into the muscles of his left upper leg, kneading the flesh beneath the harsh fabric. He put more pressure on it. It was a ghostly pain, one which had been bothering him for a while at this point. The ache of it came in waves, usually during the evening after a long day spent at the studio. It was growing more aggravating as the weeks went on though, and perhaps, once he’d have a bit of freetime he could-

A hiccup of a breath was forced from him when his legs gave out.

It was a ghastly collapsing. His head, already throbbing with burning sensation, missed the sharp corner of the desk by few inches. The floor below wasn’t as forgiving. Spike of pain cursed over the nerves of his lower back when he made contact with it, and the crashing sound that followed did nothing to sooth him. The shaking of his legs intensified without him noticing. He couldn’t feel it anymore.

Had he been paying more attention, Drew would have realized he couldn’t move a muscle below his hips.

The pain in his back was still there. It passed through from his upper spine down to the coccyx, a ripping ache with knifelike surges of cramps. He couldn’t stand up. He couldn’t even call out. Little by little, the sheet of tears was beginning to blur his field of vision as well. And he was alone. Everyone else had already left...

What was happening to him?  
  
A creaking of a wood door was difficult to hear over his own labored breath, but the sudden strip of light hit his eyes brightly enough. Startling while still writhing on the floor, Drew attempted to turn around, to see who...

“I heard some noise, is everything oka -”

Henry. A choked up sob was all the answer Drew could muster, but apparently that was enough to prompt Henry from the door further into the room, the rushing sound of the footsteps drowned out by Drew’s convulsing and gasping.

His voice was a comfort like no other, even when it was laced by a layer of alarm. “What the hell happened? Are you alright, can you stand -” Without waiting a reply, Henry looped his own arms under the death weight of Joey’s body, tugging it upwards. “Okay, okay! I’ve got you.”

The pain sharpened at the shift of position, but the sense of Henry’s body pressing against his softened the blow. The warmth seeping through their skin helped to ground him, and after a few seconds of being held Drew blinked and gained a bit of his consciousness back.

He wasn’t able to voice it, but he hoped the weak squeeze he gave to his friend’s arm would suffice.

“We have to call an ambulance! How long has this been going on, Joey? For fuck’s sake, you always do this, you never tell me these things... “

The shade of anger in Henry’s tone punctured something fragile inside Joey’s chest. He wanted to explain, he really did. But no matter how much he _wanted_ to, he couldn’t, not right now. It’s have to wait, just like it always did between the two of them.

“I have to let go to reach the phone, is that okay? I only go to the table, not far at all!” Henry’s babbling might have been amusing in any other instance, but here it left Joey feeling like he was a drowning man about to lose his one chance of rescue. However, he could do nothing but watch when Henry pulled away, slowly, and rushed over to the other side of the desk.

As he laid there, eyes glazing over once again, his mind went to the first day of opening the Joey Drew Studios. He and Henry, standing side by side on the street, watching workmen lifting the sign over the main doors. Everything had seemed to clear back then, an end goal looming far beyond them, just waiting for the coming years to bring them closer to it. He had been so excited, gripping Henry’s arm and basically jumping on the spot while Henry had merely smiled slightly, leaning into the touch but refusing to join in on the bouncing.

_“Isn’t it gorgeous? The best building money could buy!”_

_“Sure it is. But isn’t the sign a bit misleading?”_

_“Oh, if you want your name up there as well, all you have to do is ask, Henry!”_

_“I’m teasing, Drew. Keep your sign. I have things more important to worry myself with.”_

_“Sure you do.”_

_“Smartass.”_

_“Workaholic.”_

The phone call had ended a while ago. Henry’s arms were back around him, hugging him close and mumbling something he couldn’t completely understand anymore. The light in the room seemed much dimmer than before, but for some reason it didn’t bother him. In fact it was rather nice. Dim, calming.

The pain was starting to wear off, a swelling numbness taking its place.

There were tears on his cheeks. His or Henry’s, he really couldn’t tell.

He wished he had changed the sign.


End file.
